


Five(+) People Who Helped Peter When He Needed It Most

by TheSecretUchiha



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Far From Home
Genre: Everyone is there for small bean, Fix-It, Gen, I can't say that enough!!, If you've seen it!, Major Spoilers, Not a spoiler-free zone!, People supporting Peter, Please come talk to me about this movie!, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Spoilers, Tags will be updated as chapters are posted and future characters revealed, do not read if you haven't watched the movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-02 19:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecretUchiha/pseuds/TheSecretUchiha
Summary: When Peter really needs help, people are lining up to offer it to him.Major spoilers for Far From Home.DO NOT READ if you haven't watched the movie.





	1. The One Who'd Better Not Become His Uncle

**Author's Note:**

> ONE MORE TIME - DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> It came out in Japan on the 28th, so I've been waiting a bit to be a bit safer posting this.  
> It IMMEDIATELY follows the movie, specifically the post credit scene. This is going to be a fix-it for that because I can't believe they left us on that!!
> 
> This isn't going to be a long fic. With some luck I'll post a chapter a day.  
> Also I've only seen the movie once, so my knowledge of it isn't perfect yet! Be gentle if there are any mistakes.
> 
> For people waiting on the next chapter of Breathe, sorry but I've found inspiration for original writing just now so that's taking priority (because hey maybe one day I can actually make money from that...) I'll try to get back to it once I've finished this book.

“Spider-Man’s name is… Peter Parker.”

His own face was staring down at him from the giant screen attached to the side of a building. They’d chosen a pretty embarrassing photo, it looked like he’d just won a junior sales assistant of the week award that nobody except him took seriously.

Then reality really struck him. He was crouched on a lamppost, in the middle of New York City, with his identity being revealed to the world.

He turned to MJ, noticing as he did all the cameras suddenly pointed his way and the stunned faces staring up at him. MJ’s was the most stunned of all, though Peter was sure if his mask hadn’t been covering his face, he would have given her a run for her money.

Just minutes ago he’d swept her off her feet, literally, and then been kissing her and everything was actually perfect.

Now…

“Go!” MJ suddenly shouted, shattering the silence. “Go, now! Get out of here!”

The whole crowd surged past her. A man holding his phone in front of his face barged into her, making her stumble, and Peter longed to help her, taking a half step forwards without thinking before reality pulled him back. With one last glance and a nod, he shot a web, hitting the TV dead center without even meaning to, and swinging away.

“Calling Happy Hogan,” Karen announced without prompting. The call was picked up before he could even thank her.

“Get to the tower, kid,” Happy ordered, no time for niceties or even pretending to be annoyed.

“I’m on my way, but…” He sounded breathless. He’d barely been swinging for a minute, the tower wasn’t far away, and yet the words were almost lost beneath the heaving of his chest. 

“Calm down Pete, everything going to be ok.”

“No it’s not!” he snapped. “They just showed my face, Happy! The whole world knows who I am now! And they’re blaming me for killing Beck when he was the one who hit me with a freaking train! I’m going to be arrested and sent to prison with a whole bunch of people that  _ I _ sent to prison who’re going to kill me! And if that doesn’t happen, then I’m going to end up on the raft and nobody’s ever going to hear from me again! I’m going to be vanished!”

“Nobody’s going to prison or the raft, alright Peter?” Happy told him, his voice soothing in the way Peter had only really heard him use with Morgan. “You are going to be vanished, but not by the government. We’ll give you the best vanishing you’ve ever experienced ok, just get to the tower and into Tony’s lab, ok? You’ll be safe there for now, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will take care of you. I’ll meet you there, ok?”

Peter took a deep breath, “Ok Happy.” He swung around a corner, the tower coming into sight, and tried to ignore the shouts from below him, not wanting to know if they were of delight or of disgust. “I’m almost there.”

“Ok kiddo. Remember, get into the lab, I’ll be there soon. Don’t let anyone in until I’m there.” There was the sound of a car door slamming. Peter hadn’t even realised that Happy had been on the move the whole time until an engine growled to life.

“Ok Happy. I’ll… see you soon, right?” he said as he landed on the glass side of the tower. He tried not to wince at how pleading the question sounded.

“Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there.”

Peter had only been into the lab once since Tony died, only a few days after the funeral. Pepper had told him that, despite not selling the tower, Tony had left the labs there pretty much untouched since the snap, only grabbing whatever he needed before they relocated to the lake house. She didn’t say it, but the look in her eyes had told him the reason - there’d been too many memories of Peter in the labs for Tony to want to work there anymore.

It was the exact same for Peter. He could still see the disassembled iron gauntlet they’d been working on two nights before Thanos’ attack. There was still a thumb missing, the same way they’d left it when they stopped working for the night and threw on a cheap sci-fi, since it was Peter’s night to choose.

It felt like he’d been locked in his memories, or his nightmares, and that feeling hadn't changed since then, especially when F.R.I.D.A.Y. immediately came online to assist him.

“Welcome back, Peter. How have you been?” she asked once the door had clicked closed behind him.

“I’ve been a lot better,” he replied, voice wavering around a disbelieving chuckle.

“I can see that.”

“How about you?” Peter asked, hoping to keep the small talk going before the sadness that permeated the lab overtook him.

“I’ve been better too. I feel… lonely now,” she admitted, her voice conveying the same sorrow and hesitance that a human would have when confessing their own emotions.

“Me too.” He glanced around, eyes lingering then tearing away from the red and gold armour scattered throughout the room. “Is it possible to access the spider suit database in here?” he asked, trying to think of something to do that didn’t actually involve the labs. On the flight to London he’d made his own first suit, but he hadn’t had enough time to really absorb all there was to see.

“The Web is accessible for you on any of the holotables,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, activating the nearest one without any prompting.

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.-”

His phone rang. Before he even looked at it, a tone chimed, indicating an incoming message. Then another. And another.

_ Incoming Call: Flash _

“Karen, please block all incoming calls except for May, Happy, MJ and N-” he hesitated. Ned was his best friend, but Peter knew he was one to cave under peer pressure. “Just those three. And block messages too, except for them and Ned. Send my aunt and friends a message letting them know I’m ok too, would you?”

“Will do Peter,” Karen chimed back and then he was allowed to submerge himself in suit design and try to forget his whole life had been ruined until Happy banged on the locked lab door.

“Happy Hogan is outside,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced. “Shall I let him in?”

“Is that you Happy?” he called through the door. He tried not to let his anxiety show in his voice because being anxious about Happy was ridiculous.

“Of course it’s me, who else would it be?” Happy called irritably back and, with a sigh of relief, Peter went to open the door. “But that’s what anyone impersonating me would say!” Happy added quickly, grabbing the handle before Peter could open the door any further and holding it in place. “You need to ask me something only I would know!”

“Happy, that’s ridiculous, I know your voice.”

“And I could be using a voice synthesizing... machine thingy,” Happy argued back, “So just ask me a question!”

Peter could have opened the door by force, but Happy’s obsession with security was a smidge of reassurance after everything else.

“Ok, ok…” He thought for a second, then asked cryptically, “How were the walls in Berlin?”

There was a pause, one that had Peter’s heart picking up the pace for a second before Happy grumbled and responded, “Thin. God you were so loud.”

The pressure holding the door in place reversed, letting Peter pull it open and let the other man in.

Peter didn’t even realise he’d moved before he found himself wrapped around the man like a koala, stood in the open doorway, barely able to control his strength and not even trying to control his breathing as tears soaked into the man’s suit.

It was the second time he’d cried on Happy in only a few days, and, despite the man’s gruff exterior, he was just as gentle and soothing as he had been the last time. At least this time Peter hadn’t been hit by a train. 

He almost wished he had been; anything would be better than this.


	2. The Double Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Two: Get Peter out of the city.  
> Status: In progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response to chapter one!
> 
> Again I'm writing this just for fun, so don't expect a 100k epic haha.  
> Also when coming up with this idea I decided I wanted to use characters who wouldn't be as obvious to use (mostly because it makes me mad that the characters aren't just always there to help each other out, even though that's obviously because of filming limitations than what they'd like to write...)
> 
> Enjoy chapter two! Let me know if there are any mistakes!!

By the time Peter’s breakdown was over, Peter was ready to just call it a day, a week, a month, and a year, and just sleep until the whole disaster had blown over or been forgotten by the world’s population in favour of the next alien invasion, whenever it happened.

He was escorted to the couch, and forcibly pushed down into the cushions before Happy flopped down beside him.

“Ok, first things first,” Happy started, “We have a plan. Or at least a plan is being made. But it’s being made by Pepper, so it’s going to be a great plan because she has a whole lot of experience dealing with socio-political ramifications of superheroing, aka dealing with the bullshit that can’t be solved by blowing things up. So you don’t need to worry, she’s the expert.”

The bands of metal that had wrapped around his heart and lungs eased the slightest fraction at the news. He didn’t have hope; now that the reality of the situation had sunk in, the reality of his name and face being shown on tv screens around the world, he didn’t think there was anything that could be done to solve this. But having Pepper work on it was the best possible option and if anyone could make the situation even the tiniest bit less shitty then it was her.

“Second,” Happy said, continuing quickly one he was sure the news had sunk in, “We’re going to get you out of the city. I  _ promise _ it won’t be for too long, but it’s better that you’re somewhere safe, where no-one will be able to get to you just now.” Peter didn’t ask what the criteria for ‘too long’ would be - days, weeks, months? - instead just nodded numbly to show he was still listening and absorbing what he was being told. “I’ve got two guys coming, they’re experts at escaping even under high scrutiny, so they’ll get you out and take you somewhere safe, alright?”

Peter nodded, freezing part way when a sudden thought struck him, “What about May?” he asked, shocked that he hadn’t raised the question the very moment he first saw Happy.

“She’s going to be fine. One of my guys is on his way to go get her and take her somewhere safe too, but for now we’ve got to focus on you, Peter, ok?”

Peter didn’t answer. He knew that what Happy was saying was true, but he’d always been much better at putting other people first. “Can I phone her and check that she’s ok?”

Happy hesitated, which in itself was enough of an answer. “That’s not the best idea just now,” he said slowly and carefully, as if he were speaking to Morgan instead of Peter. “Not until she’s definitely safe, where no-one else will be able to listen. I know you’re stressed and worried about her, but once you’re safe, we’ll bring her to you, ok? She knows we’re getting you to safety first, and I’m sure that’s her number one priority too. You’ll only worry her more if you take stupid risks to check in on her.”

The last part was a bit too on-the-nose and Peter hunched in on himself at the thought.

“Hey, none of that,” Happy chided, then, to himself, he muttered, “Why would anyone want kids?” He groaned then shuffled closer and put an uncertain yet comforting hand on his shoulder. Peter didn’t know why he was still uncertain considering the snot stains he’d left on his jacket earlier and how well Happy had dealt with that.

“Ok, last thing, and don’t be mad, but you need to give me your phone.”

Peter’s hand automatically went to the invisible pocket in his suit that held his phone when he really needed it. “What’re you going to do with it?” he asked nervously.

“Nothing,” Happy promised, a hint of exasperation. “But you’re not going to do anything with it either. I know this sucks, big time, but you can’t contact  _ anyone _ , and we can’t risk someone tracking you with it. It’s going to stay right here, ok? And you can come back and get it yourself when this is all over.”

With many pauses, Peter pulled his phone free and slowly placed it in Happy’s waiting hand. For once the man, normally so impatient, didn’t rush him at all. Once it was in his palm he gave Peter’s hand a pat, then held the power button to switch it off. That done, he stood up and shuffled into the lab, opened a drawer seemingly at random (it was the ‘you need a wire they’re all in here’ drawer, as Tony had called it), and gently placed the phone in it.

“F.R.I., there any other phones in here?”

“Several, none of which are charged,” the A.I. replied. “The closest is underneath the papers to your left."

Happy brushed them aside and grabbed the phone, tossing it over to Peter with hardly a glance so that he had to lunge across the couch to catch it before it hit the floor.

“You can have that one for now, but it’s for emergencies  _ only _ . We’ll charge it and then the only number you’ll even think about calling is mine, got it?”

Peter nodded, then looked down at the phone in his hands as Happy rooted through the lab a bit more.

“Happy this is… this is Tony’s phone.”

The rooting stopped for a moment, then carried on with even more purpose. “Oh, is it?” Happy asked, the words so forcefully unconcerned. “He always had so many, he’d just leave them lying around. I don’t know why he even bothered when he had the suit and his iron watch and the nanorobot-thingies… He never answered either.”

“Mr Hogan, if you are looking for a charger, Mr Stark’s phones charged through contact; simply place it on one of the holographic tables and I will do it for you,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. offered.

“Oh.”

Rather than throwing it back, Peter stood and walked around the couch to put the phone reverently on the table for charging, then looked to Happy. “So when am I getting out of here then?”

“Early morning,” Happy grunted, wandering back over to the door and picking up a bag that Peter hadn’t even noticed him enter with. “The tower, with all the scientists, never really sleeps. Unfortunately, your arrival wasn’t exactly low key,” he muttered as he strode back and flopped onto the couch again. “There’s a whole swarm of reporters waiting outside, hoping for statements that nobody is going to give them. We’re hoping that the constant work and the exhaustion of waiting all night will give us a bit of an advantage getting you out.”

“And what am I supposed to do until then?” Peter asked anxiously. 

Happy dug into the bag, pulling out a large bundle that Peter’s nose immediately zoned in on. He caught the tossed burger before it hit him in the chest, then joined Happy as he pulled out several more burgers, sides and drinks.

“You got any favourite movies?”

Peter didn’t remember falling asleep. He hadn’t thought he would; he was far too highly strung, and even Monty Python wasn’t enough to distract himself (Happy didn’t get the humour but his confusion was just as amusing) from all his worries.

So it was a surprise when Happy gently nudged his shoulder and he opened his eyes to the first rays of the morning sun creeping through the window.

“Your transport is here,” Happy half-whispered, looking up from a message on his phone.

“Whozeit?” Peter asked, the question a garble of sounds.

“You’ll see,” Happy replied. “And you might want to fix your hair and wipe the drool from your chin. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of anyone.”

There were three loud, resonant knocks on the door before Peter could retort. Happy quickly strode over to it, one hand resting on his hip holster. Peter quickly jumped up from where he’d been napping on the couch, wiped a hand across his chin and chased after Happy, fingers braced against the web-shooters he’d somehow never actually taken off during the night.

“Identify yourselves!” Happy shouted through the solid metal door.

There was a pause. Peter’s ears could  _ just _ pick up some grumbling between the people outside, then a voice yelled back.

“It’s Wilson and Barnes! Here to pick up a Peter Parker-sized parcel?” Sam’s familiar voice called through the door and Peter could just picture his good-humoured smile.

“You wanna let us in?” Bucky called more gruffly

“Once you’ve passed a security question!” Happy shot back, then looked expectantly at Peter. When he didn’t immediately respond, Happy jerked his head towards the door, “Think of something to ask them.”

Peter blinked, coming up with absolutely nothing. Despite having warm feelings for the pair, he hadn’t spent much time around them that wasn’t in the midst of battle; they’d gone their own way soon after Tony’s funeral, and only sent a message back with Bruce to let everyone know that Cap was gone before heading off on their own mission.

“Any time now?” Bucky called, impatiently.

There was only one time that he could really pull anything from, similar to Happy…

“What happened when we fought in Berlin?”

There was a long, heavy pause, then…

“Fucking seriously?” Bucky grumbled.

“We kicked your ass and sent you back to America crying,” Sam called, far louder than necessary.

The door remained unmoving.

"I think he is fucking serious," Bucky told Sam.  “You were an overeager puppy and kicked our butts while trying to read us our rights. I threw a sign at you, you threw it back and then you webbed us up and got smacked into the window by redwing,” Bucky summarised quickly and unhappily, ignoring Sam’s protests otherwise.

“Dude, that was  _ so _ not what happened.”

Peter nodded to Happy who reached out and pressed the release on the door, one hand still resting on his gun

The door was barely open a foot when they both slipped through; Bucky somehow maneuvering some type of metal rack and Sam a large flattened piece of cardboard that was quickly tossed aside in favour of punching Peter in the shoulder.

“So, this is a shit situation,” Sam declared, but Peter was too distracted by Bucky.

“What happened to your hair?” he asked, gaping at the strands barely an inch or two from Bucky’s head. “You look like Sergeant Barnes. From my history textbook,” he added, as if to prevent any misunderstandings.

Bucky gave him a disbelieving stare, “Well first of all, I  _ am _ Sergeant Barnes, from your history book. Secondly, the last pictures anyone in America has seen of me was with longer hair; this is part of my disguise,” he explained vaguely, running a hand through the air and artistically ruffling it.

“Your disguise?” Peter asked.

As if waiting for Peter to ask that very question, Sam pulled a backpack off his back and started emptying it, revealing two distinctive, brown uniforms and handing one to Bucky.

They both started shucking their clothes, completely uncaring of Peter and Happy watching as they undressed then pulled the cheap fabric on instead.

“So, ugh… where’s my disguise?” Peter asked as they both pulled on matching hats; Sam’s with wefts of hair sewn into it as an added depth to his disguise. Neither answered. Peter looked from a smirking Bucky to a chuckling Sam as unease started to settle under his skin.

“You don’t have a disguise,” Sam said. “You’re who everyone’s looking for. Even with a disguise, the moment anyone saw your pouty, little face it’d be over.” 

“So how am I getting out of here then?” Peter asked, but already a mix of realisation and dread was settling over him as Bucky started to turn the wire frame into a trolley and Sam picked up the abandoned cardboard.

In a move that looked more sinister than Peter thought was possible, Sam lifted the flat-packed box and pushed in on the two edges, forcing the cardboard back into a three dimensional shape. A rather  _ small _ , three dimensional shape…

“You’re flexible, right?” he asked with a manic grin.

Peter looked to Bucky then, with undisguised desperation, to Happy. 

The asset manager smirked and Peter turned back to size up the box with a gulp.

It had definitely gotten smaller since he first saw it. He looked back up at Sam, then sighed in resignation and placed one foot in the box.

“I’m pretty sure UPS doesn’t ship superheroes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was surprisingly crazy busy at work today, so didn't have any time for writing. I didn't think I was going to get this finished today so please do let me know if there are any mistakes or if it doesn't make as much sense as my tired brain thinks it does!
> 
> I crave people talking to me about this movie and the fic because I have nobody else in my life who cares about this precious cinnamon bean as much as he deserves!!


	3. Heart and Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many ways to help someone in their time of need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the responses! You guys are amazing and so nice to hear from other people suffering after that movie! We all need to stay strong and support each other through these trying times!

Peter forced himself to stay calm, curled up in the tightest fetal position possible with Bucky and Sam’s stinky clothes pressed into the corners of the box for padding, as they closed the lid and taped it shut.

“It’s just for a few minutes, ok punk?” Bucky’s voice said, filtering through Peter’s forced calm and the darkness around him. “We’ve got a van parked just down the street, just a few minutes in the lift, out through the lobby then to the van. It’ll be fine, we’ll be as gentle as possible.”

Peter could hear him shift slightly, then the box was lifted and placed very carefully on the metal trolley that had been constructed in the time it took Peter to fold himself into place.

“You ok in there Peter?” Happy asked, sounding a bit more nervous now Peter was secreted away which did nothing to reassure him.

“It’s fine Happy. Spider’s love small, dark places, right?” he asked, hoping the slight hysterical edge to his voice didn’t transmit through the cardboard.

Something pressed gently into the box behind his back. “They’ll get you somewhere safe, kid, I promise. And then your aunt will be coming soon, I promise.”

“Happy, this really isn’t the time to make comments like that about my aunt,” Peter replied with a weak attempt at humour.

Somewhere a few meters away, Sam choked on a laugh, and above him Bucky gave a deep chuckle.

“God kid, you’re just like Tony always was,” Happy groaned, the words half reverent, half exasperated.

Peter’s carefully measured breathing faltered, then picked up slightly in response. He would have preferred to hear that when he didn’t have his head between his own thighs.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Bucky announced before Peter could find the words to respond. He rocked backwards as the trolley suddenly started to move forward, barely masking the words, “Before we have an asphyxiated spider on our hands.”

He forced himself to focus on his breathing again, staying otherwise completely silent as he was pushed down the hallway and then into the elevator. It was a bizarre experience, being in an elevator without being able to see it, almost like stepping onto an escalator that wasn’t moving - no matter how much you brace for it, the movement, or lack of, still took you by surprise.

When it stopped and the doors opened again, suddenly there was a lot more noise. Without meaning to, Peter found himself holding his breath as he was pushed through the lobby of Stark Tower and once again had to force himself to breath slowly and calmly.

It was going ok until, with a bump, there was suddenly noise on all sides.

Screams coming from every direction.

For a split-second Peter thought it was an attack. His whole body tensed and only at the very last second did he stop himself from springing out of the box as he realised what was happening.

_ “Have you seen Spider-Man?” _

_ “Is Peter Parker in the building?” _

_ “How do you feel about Peter Parker trying to replace Tony Stark?” _

The voices were all coming from reporters. There must be a huge flock of them, shouting over each other to be heard and for a second split-second Peter thought they’d been found out already, until he realised that the shouts weren’t necessarily being directed at  _ them _ , just at anyone coming and going from the building.

Even with that awareness, he felt surrounded, enclosed. Trapped. Suddenly his lungs were fighting against him, desperate for air and yet refusing to inflate. His hearing suddenly was overwhelmed with static that blocked out everything, not just the loud calls of the reporters but the sounds of New York City in the morning. Everything was suddenly blocked out, his vision was dark and he felt crushed. Nobody was coming to help him. He needed to - 

Then suddenly he was being lifted, and the ground rushed up to meet him. Something slammed nearby, sudden and loud enough to snap through the static, and a moment later a metal hand was tearing through the top of the box above him.

Like a spring, Peter unfurled in an instant, his legs kicking out, demolishing the box and catching Bucky in a glancing kick to the shin.

“Fuck! Watch the legs you-” Bucky paused, looking more carefully at Peter. A deep frown creased his brow, “You ok there punk?”

Peter’s eyes raced across his surroundings. There were brown boxes stacked on either side of him and some more in a half-built wall between them and the door.

He was safe in the truck, it was fine. There was no demolished building. Not even a train or Tower Bridge or bell tower.

“I’m fine,” Peter replied, voice slightly husky. “Just reminded me of the time I was buried under a building.”

Bucky’s hand reached down to him, and as he pulled him up he said, “Sounds like an interesting tale. Wanna share with the class?”

Peter hesitated, thinking of Tony’s part in the tale and the less than positive relationship the two other men had with his mentor.

“We’ve got a long journey ahead of us,” Bucky needled. “If you tell us one of your adventures, we’ll tell you some stories of Steve being a little shit.”

“Only if you want to share, Peter,” Sam called back as he started the van and Peter took a seat in the back of the van with a sigh. He could skip over Tony’s parts if they seemed like they were going to be disparaging of the man, but he hoped he knew their characters a bit better than that.

It was dark by the time they finally pulled to a stop. Considering they’d left when the sun was barely breaching the horizon and it was now long gone, they’d been travelling a long time. It’d been nearly non-stop too. Food and drink had been consumed on the go. The only breaks had been to relieve themselves, at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, with Peter peeing out the slightest crack of the door possible to avoid the smallest chance of anyone seeing him. It wasn’t his finest moment but after snickering like five year olds, both Sam and Bucky had sworn not to tell anyone.

Finally Bucky, the current driver, turned them down a bumpy road. “We’re here,” he called, startling Peter from the half-sleep he’d fallen into, his head jerking up from Sam’s shoulder. He peered out the front window only to blink in surprise.

“Are we… camping?” he asked, staring around the empty land on one side and forest on the other.

“Give it one more… minute,” he said as they came around the last of the trees to reveal a single house in the middle of nowhere.

“Is that a safe-house?” 

“I’d say it’s pretty safe,” he replied somewhat cryptically as he pulled up in front of the house and put the van in park.

The porch light flickered on as the three of them stepped out, and moments later the door opened, and a surprising face greeted him.

“Come in, quickly!”

They hurried in and the door closed behind them before they turned to greetings and Peter found himself wrapped in a tight hug.

“Didn’t know you were going to be here, Wanda,” Sam said.

“I was just stopping by to see the kids and Laura when everything went down,” she explained as she pulled back. “Once the plan was made I figured I’d just stick around a bit longer to see if I could be of any use. Laura took the kids to visit their grandparents just to be safe, and Clint was out back doing a sweep to make sure no-one had come looking here yet, though I’m sure he saw you arrive.”

“I did,” a voice suddenly called from the back of the house, and a few seconds later Clint appeared through a doorway and gave Peter a tight smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“You holding together ok, kiddo?”

Peter opened his mouth to say yes, but what came out instead was, “I think I am.”

Clint’s eyes softened even more, the look more understanding that Peter expected, and he gave him another squeeze before turning to Bucky and Sam, pulling them both into brief hugs.

“You guys probably want some sleep, huh? If I know Russian spies, you probably didn’t sleep last night, getting everything ready, right?” he asked, looking mainly at Bucky but including Sam.

“I’m American, you dumbass,” Bucky replied, throwing a metal punch at Clint’s shoulder and not entirely holding back his strength if Clint’s wince was any indication.

“Sleep would be good,” Sam said, the more diplomatic of the two. “We’ll be heading out early in the morning. Hogan asked if we wouldn’t mind doing some discrete patrolling while the kid’s out of action, and we all know Cap would throw himself in head-first, probably off a plane.”

“Without a parachute,” Bucky added quickly.

“And I’ve gotta make sure I live up to the shield,” Sam added, barely paying Bucky any mind.

Clint just nodded, as if none of it was a surprise despite Peter feeling blown away by the casual way they mentioned taking over his responsibilities for him. “You’re in the boys’ room. Help yourself to anything in the fridge in the morning.”

And just like that, with a pat on the shoulder and a “Everything’ll be fine,” from Sam and a less reassuring, “At least you weren’t brainwashed and turned into an assassin,” from Bucky, the two of them trudged up the stairs leaving Clint, Wanda and Peter in the hall.

“You’re on the couch,” Clint said with an apologetic shrug once they were out of sight. “Sorry it’s not a bed.”

“It’s fine,” Peter said, suddenly overwhelmed by the apology. He’d expected to have been thrown in jail by now and here a former Avenger was apologizing to him for having to sleep on a couch instead of a bed. “I… I really don’t mind,” he added, the words coming out raw and slightly hysterical.

Wanda wrapped her arms around one of his and tugged him through into the living room where the couch was already set up with pillows and blankets for him.

“It’s only for one night, anyway,” Clint added as he fluffed the pillow slightly.

“One night?” Peter echoed, taken aback.He’d figured the plan was to just lay low far from his home, where no-one would find him.

“This is just a temporary stop-over for you,” Clint explained, taking a seat on a worn armchair as Wanda pulled him down onto the couch. “It used to be safer, but now Secretary Ross and all his goons know about it. Hopefully no-one will get as far as checking here until you’ve already moved on.”

Peter thought about asking what the next part of the plan was, but he honestly felt too drained to even care about it.

“Actually,” Wanda said, pulling him back from his thoughts. “We’d been thinking of coming to speak with you sometime soon,” she admitted cautiously and Peter for the life of him couldn’t think why.

“We’re the only three Avengers who… who really lost someone to Thanos,” Clint said softly and Peter felt the understanding sink into his chest like an anchor pulling him down. 

Vision.

Natasha.

And Tony.

The ones who hadn’t come back.

“Well, and Thor,” Clint added, “But he disappeared into space so quickly and he’d had some time to… to come to terms with everything.”

“We thought about speaking to you at the funeral but… we thought we’d give you a bit more time to come to grips with things,” Wanda whispered.

“Tony and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but after Thanos snapped his fingers and everyone… I think we both understood each other a lot better after that. He understood how it felt to have a family that you needed to put first and I really got why he’d been so intense about protecting the planet. I wish-”

Clint stopped suddenly, biting down on the words on his tongue as a dark look came to his eyes. Peter had heard what had happened while he had been non-existent, and he can only imagine how Clint was living with what he’d done now.

“Are you coping ok?” Wanda asked when Clint stayed silent, and he assumed she was talking to the older man until she gave a slight tug on Peter’s sleeve.

He looked from her, back to Clint, whose shadows had passed, and took a deep breath. If anyone would understand him, it was these two.

“I thought I was, but then Nick Fury hijacked my school trip and gave me a message Tony had left for me and…”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve read Breathe you will not be at all surprised that this turned into a ‘help Peter cope’ fic at the end there haha.
> 
> Don't @ me about Natasha and Bruce. That's the one relationship the movies never really sold to me.  
> Also I didn't include Gamora cause she's a tricky situation and also despite working together we didn't really see the Guardians interacting with people, other than Nebula and Rocket.  
> I'm hoping I haven't forgotten anyone else important that would ruin the Wanda, Clint, Peter support triangle...


	4. The One that is Wise as Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get back to. I saw it again today and it spurred me back into action! 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, comments and general love! <3
> 
> Just one more chapter and it's the one that I wrote all this for!

Peter almost slept through Sam and Bucky’s departure the next day. Once more, it was the ass-crack of dawn, and he woke when the front door gently clicked shut. For a moment he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling before everything, starting from Venice and leading to Clint’s house, swept over him and he darted out the door just as the other four avengers were sharing farewells.

“Look who’s decided to join us,” Sam teased and Bucky, as he’d learned yesterday, always had to add his two cents.

“There’s definitely a lake’s worth of drool on your couch right now man,” he said, clapping Clint on the shoulder and laughing.

“Can’t be worse than Nat was,” Clint answered and there wasn’t even a note of sorrow in his voice - Peter hoped he’d be as put together as Clint was sometime soon. “She acted like this deadly, kick-ass super spy, but when she was out she was _really_ out and she was a drooler.”

“Steve was the same. People always compared him to a puppy and they didn’t even _know_ how much drool he had, he slobbered _everywhere_.”

Peter laughed because it felt like he was meant to, but it felt fake, to be laughing so disingenuously when these people had _lost_ too and yet they were still _living_ when he’d been struggling so hard this whole time.

For a second, he couldn’t help feel resentful. Bucky had been with Sam, it seemed Clint and Wanda had kept in touch… and he’d been alone, with only Happy coming and going and paying more attention to his aunt.

A hand clapped his shoulder and he looked up at Sam and the resentment slipped away. Everyone had their own ways of dealing with grief, their own struggles, and they’d pulled through for him now.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” Sam told him with a warm smile before hopping up into the van.

“Yeah, and, I know it’s hard for punks like you, but don’t worry about New York, we’ll take care of it for you for now,” Bucky called, leaning across Sam from the passenger seat until Sam jabbed him with an elbow to get him back into his own space.

Then they pulled away, the van quickly disappearing back around the forest they’d skirted the night before, leaving just the three of them in the silent field.

“Let’s get you some breakfast. Not sure when your next ride’s coming in, but there’s always time for food first. I bet teenage superheroes eat even more than the fully grown ones.”

Peter was wiping his plate of egg yolk when his ears pricked and his ‘Peter Tingle’ told him something was off.

“Something’s here,” he announced, cutting across Wanda and Clint’s soft chatter suddenly.

Both froze. It was unlikely either of them could hear the faint hum of an engine when his super-hearing could only just pick it up, but neither of them questioned him.

Clint nodded to Wanda, who crept to a window, peering around the very edge of it, one hand ready with red strands of magic twisting around it in preparation for an attack.

Clint pulled a thin cupboard open, one Peter had barely noticed, assuming it to be a cleaning cupboard, and pulled a bow from where it hung on the inside of the door and shouldered a quiver of bows.

“Be ready until we know who it is,” he told Peter who nodded and fingered the web shooters that hadn’t left his wrists since he’d put the suit on to meet MJ less than a day ago. He stood up, moving out of sight of the window then climbing the wall onto the ceiling until he was tightly pressed in the space above the door.

The three of them waited, completely silent and tense, ears strained to hear any noise from outside until…

“Mr Barton, I have arrived. May I come into your house?”

The voice was distinctive, and it didn’t take long for Peter to place it as the whole room relaxed. Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing silently on his feet and raised a hand to the door handle. He stopped and looking to Clint for permission before quickly throwing it open and stepping out onto the porch, eyes wide at the sight that met him.

King T’Challa, in all his majesty, was stood a few meters from the house with a kind smile as he met Peter’s eyes. But behind him, even more incredible, was almost nothing. The only thing that gave away the vehicle that had landed in the field was the open hatch at the rear that the king of Wakanda must have disembarked through.

“You guys have stealth jets? I could barely even _hear it_! Even Tony’s jet made more sound than that and the reflective panels were less refined! Wow, you have got to teach me what tech you’re using to make it that good!”

“We have a long flight ahead of us,” T’Challa told him and even his voice sounded majestic, like a lion’s rumble.

Then his words caught up with Peter. “I’m going to _Wakanda?_ ” he asked, looking from T’Challa to Clint and Wanda who had slipped out of the house behind him.

“Course you are. No chance of Ross or any of his absolute asshats getting you over there,” Clint told him.

“You’re welcome in my country as long as needed for this situation to resolve itself,” T’Challa promised, striding closer and offering his hand to Peter who took it numbly, struggling to believe he was shaking hands with a king. “It’s not the first time I’ve harboured fugitives from the American government. Besides, I owe Tony Stark both my own life and the lives of half of Wakanda. It would be shameful for my country and I not to return the favour to his own family when they are in need of help.”

“I-I wasn’t Tony’s family,” Peter choked out, stumbling over the words with both embarrassment and grief.

“Weren’t you?” T’Challa asked, a raised brow and half smile that told Peter what he thought of Peter’s assertion before he moved on to greet Clint and Wanda.

“It’s an eight hour flight,” T’Challa told Peter once he boarded after saying his thanks to Clint and Wanda, the hatch closing behind him.

“Eight hours? To Wakanda?” Peter asked disbelievingly.

“Probably more like seven,” T’Challa shrugged with a smirk, clearly enjoying Peter’s shock. “The jet isn’t just good for being silent and invisible,” he said, showing Peter to the cockpit where an incredibly intimidating woman was piloting; Peter could tell in an instant that MJ would admire her, if nothing more than for the impressive amount of disdain in her eyes as she looked Peter up and down. He went to introduce himself but was swiftly distracted by the view out of the front window; the plane was already raising into the crowds and Peter could barely tell. “Would you like the tour or would you rather rest?”

“I- I’ll take a tour if that’s ok?” Peter said, and for the first time was able to push his anxiety-fear-terror slightly away from centre-stage in his mind and let himself fall into the tech like he always had when Tony had shown him things in the lab.

“My King,” the woman at the controls called back half an hour later, when T’Challa had removed some of the ships panels to show him the wiring, “There is a call from the palace for you.”

T’Challa nodded and headed to the cockpit. “There’s wifi too which you are free to use as long as you don’t post anything anywhere,” he told Peter before disappearing.

  


**Spider-Man, a killer?**

**Hero Mysterio killed by teenaged Superhero!**

**Peter Parker: hero or villain?**

**What we know about Peter Parker**

With exclusive insider information from classmates!

Peter was reading the last one when T’Challa returned. Considering it was a Daily Bugle article he really shouldn’t put much weight in it, or even be giving them another view considering they’d been the ones to reveal his identity and play that ridiculous and deceitful tape, but he couldn’t help himself from reading the worst of what the world was saying about him since this was the first time he’d been given the chance. He wished he hadn’t looked at all, but he couldn’t stop. It really was awful; Peter didn’t even know most of the people they’d interviewed and held on to the fraction of hope that said they’d just made all of them up to sell the story. (He was surprised that Flash’s name wasn’t mentioned but the other boy was probably in the midst of a existential crisis now the truth had been revealed.) But despite always wanting to see the best in people, he knew there were those who’d be happy to sell out and hurt others for their own gain. Quentin Beck had beaten that lesson into him, if nothing else.

“It does not do to dwell on all the negative in the world, Mr Parker,” T’Challa told him solemnly as he returned and took a seat beside him, looking sadly down at the article with Peter’s own face staring back at them. “Face it if you can fix it, but if you can’t, acknowledge it then move on; dwelling will only hold you back.”

“But if I don’t know what they’re saying about me and what everyone’s thinking, how can I solve this?” Peter asked, feeling anxiety trying to claw up his throat alongside the words as he spoke. “I need to get back to New York, people there need me!”

T’Challa offered him an indulgent smile, as if he’d just done something particularly amusing. 

“You have saved many people in just a few years, Mr Parker. Please, think back to some of the people you’ve saved, the ones who are most scared or anxious. Can you tell me now what you would tell them when you save them?”

Peter shrugged, not really feeling like following along wherever T’Challa was leading him but not wanting to be ungracious considering the man was taking him in. “I dunno. ‘It’s ok now’ or ‘Don’t worry’?”

“Or?” T’Challa prompted again, apparently unwilling to give him any help.

“I don’t know!” Peter snapped, tugging a hand through his hair. 

T’Challa waited patiently.

“‘I’ll save you’? ‘Your friendly neighbourhood spider-man is here?’ ‘No, I’m not trying to steal your purse, please don’t hit me’?”

T’Challa chuckled and Peter felt the anger drain out of him as quickly as it’d come, slumping back in his seat, “I don’t know,” he whispered.

“Imagine you have just scooped someone out of the way of danger. You’re swinging down the streets of New York, with them in your arms. What do you ask them to do?”

It comes to him immediately. At first it had been more begging than asking, his own lacking confidence and nervousness sucking the bravado from the notion. But as he’d gone on, he’d grown braver and more experienced and he was able to say it with all the confidence he’d lacked.

“Trust me,” he whispered and T’Challa nodded, looking proud of Peter, no matter that it had taken him so long to reach the correct answer.

“‘Trust me’,” T’Challa echoed. “Whenever we act to save someone, we give them the promise that they can trust us to do so, that we’ll give everything we have to make sure they’re safe. Most of the time we can, unfortunately there are times we can’t.” His frown was so pensive and self-reflective as he spoke that it was obvious he was thinking of his own experiences even now. “That is how we can be the best we can - if someone is in need, they put their trust in the heroes and we will do our very best to save them.”

“I don’t get it,” Peter said after a long, thoughtful silence. “I mean, I get it, of course I do, I just don’t get how that’s relevant now.”

T’Challa burst out into a sudden, bright laugh that filled the ship, but Peter didn’t feel at all like the laughter was aimed at him, “You don’t understand?” he asked teasingly. “Peter, while normally you are the hero, this time you are the one in need. That doesn’t make you any lesser,” he added quickly when Peter frowned unhappily. “We have all flocked together, each of us doing whatever we can to help you, as I am sure you would do the same for us.” He pressed a hand over Peter’s, the one still clenched around his phone. “Just now you can do nothing to fix this problem but you can let yourself trust that the heroes of this piece will save you.”

Slowly, Peter’s mouth closed again from where his lower lip had dropped open as T’Challa spoke. He had to swallow, trying to moisten his suddenly arid throat, and even still when he tried to speak, all that came out was a croak.

T’Challa smiled, then took his hand from Peter’s and pointedly turned it over, his palm held out in waiting until Peter, slowly yet not reluctantly, placed his (Tony’s) phone in it, trusting the man entirely.

“We will not fail you,” T’Challa promised, both solemn and sincere.

Instead of moving away, as Peter expected, the man flicked at his phone, sending the tens of news tabs that Peter had been browsing away. Then he typed something else in and handed it silently back, nodding towards it when Peter didn’t immediately investigate the change.

“If you want to read something during the flight, I might suggest some of these articles,” T’Challa said before finally pushing himself back to his feet and striding near-silently back to the cockpit to check in with Okoye.

Peter looked down at his phone.

**New York Rallies Around Missing Spider-Man**

They touched down under a beautiful African sun, after flying over the second-most incredible city Peter’d ever seen - because New York would always be number one for him.

“You are my personal guest,” T’Challa promised him as Peter eyed the lines of warriors lined up to greet them as they disembarked. “You and your aunt,” T’Challa added.

Peter twisted to stare at him, wide-eyed, but the question didn’t even have time to leave his lips when someone else shouted, feet rushed along the marbled floors.

“Peter! Sweetheart!” May cried and then her arms were wrapped around his shoulders so tight Peter wouldn’t have been able to move even if he’d wanted to.

“May. You’re here!” he whimpered into her shoulder and clung even tighter.

T’Challa stepped up behind them, placing a hand on Peter’s back when they finally separated and pushing them both gently into the palace.

“The most important thing to remember as a superhero,” he said as they headed into the building, “is that you are _not alone_. Ever. Even when you are alone in a fight, the people who love you are always doing whatever they can to help. And from now on,the moment you reach out for our help, we will be here for you to help in whichever way we can. So please, trust us now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapter one.  
> There'll be more of Happy next chapter but, again, this is not meant to be a long fic so we'll be moving through things pretty quickly.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on the fic and more importantly the movie!  
> I absolutely LOVED Happy in it. And Peter and MJ were such dorks with each other but so great!  
> I was a bit sad about Ned, I think he'd been moved too much to comic relief, and lost some of the strong friendship that he had with Peter in the first movie. Basically everything Peter asked him to do he didn't do it seemed, whether that was completely his fault or not...  
> Sound off in the comments!!


End file.
